The Wish (24 page)

“He begged me to buy a property here, where he could stay when I went back home. No matter what I said, he never believed I wasn’t rolling in money. Tired of his constant demands, I showed him my bank statements and loan payments, proving I barely made ends meet.”

Alex knew the rest of the story, but remained quiet, unwilling to implicate Alfred. As much as Paul loved Alfred, he also valued honesty. What would he do if he knew Jordan had been paid to break his heart? Alex should have realized Paul’s shrewdness wouldn’t leave the truth undiscovered.

“Jordan wanted more than I had to offer and began making demands,” Paul said. “Nothing I did made him happy. He even had the nerve to suggest I sell the store!”

“Then what?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars, Alex!” Paul barked, jumping from his chair to pace frantically before the desk. “That’s what I was worth to him! Two hundred fucking thousand lousy dollars!” Wounded eyes glittered with tears that soon overflowed onto his cheeks, sliding down his chin to fall to the floor.

“What did he do?” Alex asked, fighting the urge to find Jordan and give the man a few choice words—or his fist.

“Alfred gave him the money to go away,” Paul admitted with a defeated sigh.

Paul knows?
“You’re not mad?”

Paul laughed, a sound totally devoid of humor. “Oh, I was for a while, until I discovered how Jordan amused himself while I was away. Something Alfred knew and hadn’t told me, hoping I’d find out on my own while shielding me as much as possible. Jordan was in deep trouble, Alex. Seems he has a gambling problem and used his connections to me and our uncles to get credit.”

“You knew?”

“No,” Paul said, nibbling at his lower lip. “Not at first. I turned a blind eye to his faults because I loved him. When I found out, he said he was sorry for what he’d done. He even went to counseling and started working on honestly paying off his debts. I gave him another chance.”

Oh,
hell
no! Alex didn’t believe in second chances, conveniently forgetting a second chance was, in essence, what he himself wanted. “You mean you stayed with him after he used you?”

Regardless of Jordan’s many transgressions, Paul jumped to his defense. “Jordan didn’t have the advantages we did, like a family, a home. He had problems we can’t even begin to imagine.”

“That’s no excuse in my book,” Alex growled. He stood and joined Paul in his pacing. “Let me guess: he didn’t stop gambling.”

Paul puffed his cheeks, blowing out a huffed breath. “I think he did for a while, though not for long. He just learned to hide his weaknesses better. Anyway, it gets worse.”

“How could it possibly get worse?” Alex felt strangely indignant, even though Paul had been slighted and not him.

“To put it mildly, he didn’t get lonely whenever I went to Bishop.”

Alex chose not to comment. Alfred had alluded to the man’s infidelity, but apparently being a slut wasn’t the full extent of Jordan’s misdeeds.

“And he owed a bookie money,” Paul continued, “a
lot
of money.”

Alex easily imagined what happened next. “When Alfred offered to bail him out, he took the money and was gone the next time you came back, am I right?”

“Yes. I’m the biggest sucker on the planet, aren’t I?” Paul hung his head. “Go ahead, tell me what a sap I am.”

The arrogant bastard Alex once pretended to be would have agreed; however, that version of him hadn’t survived long after arriving at his uncle’s house. The new and improved Alex answered truthfully, “No, you’re not a sap. Too forgiving, maybe; a sap, no.”

Paul’s next question took Alex by surprise. “How do you do it, Alex?”

“Do what?”

“Sleep with people you don’t care about. How do you do that? Isn’t it lonely? Don’t you want to wake up with someone you love, who loves you?”

Though Alex had never thought of his independence in quite those terms before, Paul made an excellent point. “Like our uncles?”

“Yes,” Paul replied, nodding, “like them. Don’t you want something more than meaningless sex?”

Alex decided he had nothing to lose by telling the truth. “Of course I want something more.” Bitterness crept into his voice. “I’ve never found anyone who saw past the money to who I really am.”

“
What
?” Paul shouted, eyes widening. “All you’ve ever known were poor excuses for lovers like Jordan? Someone who’d walk away for the right price?”

Judging from his reaction, Paul definitely didn’t travel in the same circles Alex did, where such behavior wasn’t only accepted, but expected. Maybe Alex hung out with the wrong people. “Pretty much,” he replied.

“How awful for you. Have you never had anyone to love you for you?”

The answer was a resounding “No” even if Alex chose not to voice it. The truth was, even in bed with another living, breathing human being or two—hell, even in the middle of a crowded club with his so-called friends—Alex felt alone. He didn’t like solitude nearly as much as he pretended to.

Capturing Paul’s angular face between his hands, he forced Paul’s head up until their eyes met. “What do you see when you look at me?” Alex leaned in, lips inches away from Paul’s. He wanted badly to close the distance. Hearing Alfred’s words replaying themselves in his head stopped him. He’d sworn to take responsibility for his actions, and he’d made a promise he intended to keep.

Glistening eyes, grieving now for someone else’s loneliness and not because of a manipulative ex-lover, studied him intently. Paul took a deep breath and then answered, “I see someone who was given everything he wanted and nothing he needed.”

“What do you think I need, Paul?” Given the man’s unique insight, Alex genuinely anticipated the answer.

It didn’t disappoint; Paul kissed him. Though merely a brief meeting of lips, it meant more than Alex could ever explain.

“Do you still want me?” Paul murmured as he withdrew.

The question was even more unexpected than the kiss, and when Alex hesitated, Paul asked again, “You still want to sleep with me, right?”

Part of Alex yelled
“Yes!”
but no way would he accept the offer, not under the circumstances. Though it killed him to do so, he shook his head. “How’s a pity fuck from you different from what I have now? I don’t want you to sleep with me because you feel sorry for me, or so I can wipe away the memory of another man.

“You don’t want me, Paul. I don’t know what you want, but I’m certain it isn’t me.” How ironic that, after all his fantasies of having Paul in his bed again, now knowing he wasn’t betraying his uncle, he couldn’t accept the offer. “You know, if someone had told me earlier tonight that I’d be turning you down, I’d have said they were crazy. You may have uttered the words, but you don’t mean them, and it’s you, Byron, and Uncle Alfred who taught me not to settle. I’m a little late getting the message, but it’s finally sunk in. Good night, Paul.” With those words, Alex did the hardest thing he’d ever done—turned his back on what he wanted most in the world and went to bed alone.

16

L
ATER
, lying in bed, Paul mulled over the unexpected turn of events. Would wonders never cease? Aside from the teasing, innuendo, and blatant offers, when it came down to the real deal, Alex had said no. Unfortunately, the offer was dead serious, even if, upon further reflection, Paul’s timing left a lot to be desired.

Damn Jordan for showing up tonight! Paul had loved him fiercely once, or rather, loved Jordan’s false advertising. Now it no longer mattered whether the man dealt with his issues. His gambling habit only tipped the iceberg when it came to their problems. He’d never be capable of a mature, loving commitment without being on the constant lookout for someone better, richer, or more powerful.

Players didn’t change. At least, Jordan couldn’t; could Alex? Had he truly repented of his philandering ways?

Paul’s conscience pointed out that he’d been forgiving enough to stay with a man who’d used him, but judged Alex before meeting the guy. His libido added,
That was one hell of a night in his bed.
While not enough to base a relationship on, it beat anything from Paul’s past.

Under Alex’s superior façade hid a complex man who doted on Alfred and had truly cared about Byron. And when Paul hurt, seeking comfort in Alex’s embrace seemed totally natural. He recalled consoling arms holding him in the car. No words were necessary; actions spoke louder. Plus, Alex had kept his promise, with the exception of one kiss in the garden, which, truthfully, Paul had quite enjoyed.

Tonight, when asked point-blank, Alex said no. Did integrity lurk beneath the conceited, unfeeling mask, causing him to refuse? Well, if Alex ran, Paul would give chase. Mind made up, he announced into the quiet of his bedroom, “Alex Martin, you will be mine.”

Of course, it wasn’t simply the room witnessing his confession. With his eyes closed, he didn’t notice the gathering shadows crossing the floor and disappearing through the bedroom door.

W
ELL
, well, how promising. Especially since Byron had expected Paul to be harder to convince, relying on Alex’s famed skill as a seducer to win over his naïve nephew. How could he forget the boy’s innate ability to find good in everyone?

He’d worried when the gigolo made an appearance, given Paul’s onetime love for Jordan. In the end, the fiasco advanced Byron’s plans, paving the way for a little soul baring. The following conversation saddened him, and he grieved the wrongs done to both young men that shattered their youthful dreams. If understanding grew from shared pain, however, the grief might prove worth the end result.

As shocked as Paul at Alex’s refusal, after hearing his nephew’s declaration, Byron hurried to find the other half of the equation and gauge Alex’s reaction. Following a fruitless search of the blue room, Alfred’s office, and the kitchen, Byron finally located Alex in the gym, beating the hell out of the heavy bag.

Oh, quite promising indeed. Apparently, Paul had gotten under Alex’s skin. It wouldn’t be long now.

Elated at the night’s progress and proud of his lover for coercing their nephews into a date, Byron hurried to the bedroom he’d shared with Alfred for so many years, coming to an abrupt halt just inside the door. Triumph turned to terror. Alfred lay upon the bed, clutching his chest. His pain-clouded blue eyes met Byron’s, opening wide.

“Byron!” Alfred croaked.

Byron froze. Alfred could see him—because Alfred was dying.

17

A
LOUD
crash jolted Paul from his bed, and he skidded to a stop in Alfred’s bedroom a moment later, dashing to the bedside and frantically tearing through the nightstand for a nitro bottle. He popped a pill under Alfred’s tongue like he’d been instructed to do in case of an emergency.

Alarmed when no color returned to Alfred’s pasty complexion, Paul reached for the phone and dialed 911. Next he called Isaac, telling him to open the gates for the paramedics.

“Hold on, please, hold on,” Paul chanted, finally noticing the disaster that had woken him from a sound sleep. A bookcase lay on its side, dozens of heavy, leather-bound tomes littering the floor. He couldn’t spare a thought for how it could have toppled, too busy hoping he’d arrived in time.

“What the hell is going on? I was going to the kitchen when I heard….”

Paul gazed up at Alex with fear in his eyes, clutching Alfred’s hand.

“Oh, dear God!” Alex shouted, rushing to the bedside. “Uncle, talk to me!” A faint rasp was Alfred’s only response. “Paul, did you…?”

“Yes, I gave him nitro and called 911.”

As if on cue, a clamor arose in the hall and William’s seldom-heard voice urged, “This way, gentlemen, last door on the left.”

A gurney and two paramedics rushed in and Alex stepped aside, gently pulling Paul away from the bed to allow the emergency workers room.

The blue-clad technicians took Alfred’s vitals and asked a few questions. Then they hoisted him onto the gurney, strapped him securely in place, and hurried down the hall and out of the house. The entire process took only a few minutes and then they were gone, along with Alfred.